


How Can I Escape this Irresistible Grasp

by USSFriendship



Series: WinterHawk Mandatory Fun Day [4]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint is a honeypot, Idiots in Love, M/M, Uniform Kink, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/USSFriendship/pseuds/USSFriendship
Summary: Clint is stressed about an upcoming mission and is avoiding Bucky





	How Can I Escape this Irresistible Grasp

**Author's Note:**

> Mandatory Fun Day 12 APRIL 2019: [ Unbeta'ed for now, so I could make the Mandatory Fun Day deadline, but I will update when I get corrections back. This week has been a motherbitch, and thoroughly kicked my ass. The unfortunate result, is this was a fight to get done and is sort of all over the place. I know this, so please be gentle. Title from Learning to Fly, by Pink Floyd.](https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/post/184047222729/mandatoryfunday-hello-again-winterhawklings)

Bucky had no idea what the mission was, just that when Clint and Natasha walked into the communal kitchen when they got back from their meeting she was practically bouncing, mirth and mischief in her eyes, and he looked like someone had just punched a litter of kittens and made him watch. 

“Uh, what’s up,” he asked, somehow sounding both tentative and urgent.

“Oh, nothing. Clint is just unhappy with his next assignment,” Nat chirped merrily, which was its own kind of terrifying. “Nothing to worry about, a milk run, really. He’s just being a baby.”

Clint, who’d walked straight in, sat on his stool at the counter, and put his head down on the cool granite, just let out a pitiful little whine. “No!” he barked out when he heard Bucky move towards him. “Ugh, no, not-” he lifted his head and shook it a litte to clear his thoughts before continuing. “No, not ‘NO!’ just, there’s no making this better. It isn’t even bad. Tash is right, I am being a baby, but I really don’t wanna do this.” 

“Well, what’s the mission? Maybe I can help,” he offers, trying to keep his voice light and breezy, but knowing he failed miserably. Cut him some slack, ok, he’s trying. For all that he earned his reputation as a charmer back before the war, this was Bucky’s first actual relationship, and it wasn’t exactly like the intervening years had given him any skills that would help here; there was no training for the Winter Soldier on how to reassure his boyfriend without sounding like a condescending ass. “I know a little bit about spy stuff. Just a bit.” It is a desperate bid at levity that fails miserably, but, luckily, it was drowned out by Natasha’s bark of laughter.

“Oh, Clint,  _ PLEASE _ take him up on this. I will get Darcy to film it and we could put it up online, a pay-per-view thing for charity. It would make  _ MILLIONS _ .” She is cackling so hard she barely gets the words out. 

“You,” Clint says, standing up and fixing her with a searing look, “are a hateful woman. I am going to go talk to Stark.”

“Oh, that’s even  _ better _ . Hey, wait up, let me get Darcy.” She’s still giggling as he takes off after him, thumbs already flying across her phone.

Bucky was left alone in their wake, blinking and wondering what the fuck was going on.

 

**=|=|=|=|=**

 

Clint was oddly quiet and withdrawn for the next three days, spending most of his time hiding somewhere even Bucky couldn’t find him. There were a handful of instances -  aside from bedtime, where Clint just quietly plastered himself to Bucky’s side and pretended to sleep - that the he was finally able to nail his archer down, but Clint wasn’t talking. Bucky knew it had something to do with the mission, but that was it. Hell, he didn’t even know anything about the mission, except that it was supposed to be a milk run that Clint really didn’t want any part of, and Natasha thought the whole thing was the funniest fucking thing to happen in her life. To be fair, it might be, but he wouldn’t know, as no one bothered to tell him what the fuck was going on. 

 

**=|=|=|=|=**

 

The next morning, exhausted from days of worrying about Clint and trying to hide how frustrated he was about being in the dark, he decided he need to  _ something _ . More specifically, he needed to hit something, and since there was absolutely nothing better to hit when you were irritated than Steve, and since Steve was his best friend and would do anything for him, he needed to hit Steve. 

Ever the good sport, and ecstatic that Bucky came to him for anything - no, Steve definitely wasn’t feeling at all thrown over for Clint, really -  Steve obliged, and let himself be dragged down to the gym for a much needed sparring session. 

“What’s wrong, Buck,” Steve chided playfully, “not getting laid so regularly? Startin’ to get to you?”

Sure, he ended up on his back, with his a metal arm on his throat for that comment, but it was worth it when he rolled back on his shoulders and knocked Bucky sideways. A fight was a fight, after all, and he was still Steven Grant Rogers.

Before either of them could get back up, Natasha was standing over them, having some in at some point without either of them noticing. 

“Yasha, you need to see this. Come.” She held out her hand to Bucky, and, as her tone brokered no room for argument, Bucky was helpless to do anything but let her take his hand and drag him along. 

He let himself be led out of the gym, and along the corridor, and up at least a couple of flights of stairs before he had the wherewithal to ask “Is Clint alright,” but Natasha didn’t even both to stop and she turned her head to shoot him a glare. 

“You would know if he weren’t.”

All the while, Steve was tagging along behind them, absolutely no urgency beyond trying to keep pace with them. As team leader, he, of course, knew what the mission was and what was. He was squarely with Natasha on this; Clint was being ridiculous, and this was going to be hilarious.

 

**=|=|=|=|=**

 

Before he realized where they were going, they were there, and Natasha had come to an abrupt halt in front of him. She turned to him with a small smile and put her finger to her lips and looked pointedly from him to Steve.” 

“Holy fuck, Barton, I had no idea.” Tony blurted, sounding, vaguely, like he was trying not to choke on his tongue, and that had Bucky all kinds of confused. And worried. “I mean, that poor shirt is so tight that Cap’s shirts feel bad for it, but, I mean,  _ damn _ .”

Before he could do anything, Natasha had a hand on his chest, holding him in place. 

“Goddamnit, Stark, I came to you for help not…” Clint’s voice trailed off, either he had gotten quiet, or he was gesturing at something Bucky couldn’t see. 

“Oh, absolutely not, Hawkass. Stand still and stop pouting. Or pout sexier. Do something different, you are ruining the pictures.” A tinkling voice that was full of laughter, Darcy’s, his brain supplied, was badgering his boyfriend to be sexier.  _ ‘Cause that’s possible _ , he thought to himself, but before that thought had a chance to go any further, the mouthy brunette was walking around around a corner and into his eye line, followed in short order by Tony and Clint. 

And just like that it was Bucky trying not to swallow his tongue. 

Clint was...well. Something. Holy fuck, indeed. Stark was absolutely correct. MmmHmm. Clint was wearing a bespoke suit style uniform, navy slacks and blazer over a light purple shirt with shiny tie in the same color. Just below his lapel on the left side was a pair of wings, and Bucky would bet Steve’s life that they were a nametag. The jacket covered the shirt, but if the pants - just barely appropriate for how tight they were - were any indication, he could just  _ imagine _ what that shirt looked like, and that poor thing must be workin’  _ real _ hard. 

Now, sure. Bucky had a life no one could really relate to. Not Steve, with his own brand of being out of time. Not Clint or Natasha with their shared, but unique, experiences with brainwashing and being built into weapons. But. But. He had had a wonderful time finding his place in the new world he found himself in, with the opportunity to build himself into the person he wanted to be. If he was feeling charitable towards himself or life in general or whatever, he would consider himself lucky; he had vague and disjointed memories of his life before and then during his time as the Winter Soldier, but, for the most part, he got to figure out himself for himself, without the bias and influence that comes with being raised around others. Even if he remembered his parent’s political views, for instance, it isn’t like they were even vaguely relevant in the current era. So, really, he was a grown man who was able to determine his likes and dislikes, his inclinations, his  _ proclivities _ , aware and able to ignore the influence of others. Of course, Clint had helped, in a whole host of fun and interesting ways, but after an in depth exploration of modern coffee and pizza and shitty television programming, he was more than happy to follow along as Bucky figured things out for himself. 

Turns out, though, that there were a couple of places he wouldn’t have minded a little direction. All he could do was stand there, awkward and completely transfixed, and oagle his surface-of-the-sun scorching hot boyfriend in a custom flight attendant uniform. To be fair, Bucky was entirely incapable of explaining the specifics of why he found it so sexy. Of course, he was aware of commercial air travel. It was older than he was, though not by much. He just hadn’t even experienced it. All of the flying he had done was in the cargo hold of military aircraft, be it in the war or with Hydra, and any flying he had done since that wasn’t in some sort of military plane was done in Stark’s private jet. The jet was nice, don’t get him wrong, but the entire crew consisted of a pilot and co-pilot (who were largely superfluous, given that every time he’d flown that way there were at least two other qualified pilots and Steve on board. Steve will count as an actual pilot when he finally manages to land a plane.) and Tony pointing out where the restroom was and then pointing at the bar and saying ‘help yourself.’ So, all his exposure to flight attendants came from movies and TV where they were usually portrayed as being women who were overly cheerful and, as often as not, openly promiscuous. 

Clint pulled on the bottom on the jacket and straightened up a little bit, almost as if fortifying himself. Something about the movement hig Bucky just the right way. This was the uniform for customer service. High end customer, service, no less, and that is something that he understood. Someone who was dressed like that, uniform but appealing, a measured sort of attractive but somehow still approachable, existed - at least while dressed like that - to  _ serve  _  people. They helped. They  _ tended _ to. Oh, how Bucky really, really needed Clint to tend to him while wearing  _ that _ .

“Tony. Darce. C’mon.” There was an edge of pleading in Clint’s voice. “Don’t make this harder.”

“Oh, stop, Hawkass,” Bucky bristled at Darcy’s nickname, but he also knew that she and Clint were close, and had been for years. He was already on edge because of how uncertain Clint had sounded. And, maybe, just a little bit because of how fucking gorgeous Clint  _ looked _ , and how that all of that was  _ his _ . He tried to force himself to relax; Clint had a job to do, and would have less than no patience for Bucky going all neanderthal-possessive on him.  Darcy ran a hand over Clint’s tie, but it looked to be more a reassurance than actually straightening the tie, before she started talking again, “You know exactly what you look like. You work hard at it. And you use it to your advantage all the time. This is no different, right? You’re just trying to get a horny gun runner to spill some info, rather than trying to con some barista into an extra shot.”

“I will give you all shots you want, Katniss. I will also give you all the info you could possibly want on selling weapons. Literally no one is more qualified. Barnes will understand.” Tony was clearly joking, but Bucky had to work harder to suppress an actual growl at those words than he wanted to admit.

“Tony, you give me all the coffee I can drink and the world’s most badass coffee maker that starts brewing as soon as soon as my scans start to indicate that I am waking up, so you already do that. And, if you can convince James, you are more than welcome to join us any time you want.” Clint managed a laugh at that, and Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of it, but, it was an interesting idea. Before he could think too much on, Clint continued, “but that isn’t the point. I don’t do this. This,” he waved his hands at himself, “isn’t my thing, it isn’t what I do.”

Both Tony and Darcy’s faces dropped into something serious. Tony took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully before starting, “Barton, you are one of the premier spies in the world. I really don’t understand what about this has you so worked up.”

“I’m not that kind of spy. I am less James Bond and more Jason Bourne.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Darcy threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. “Jason Bourne could wear the fuck out of a suit while shanking a bitch with a tie pin in a crowded room and no one would notice. Try again.”

“Darce, I’m not saying I can’t, I am just saying ‘m not great at it. It isn’t my thing. Especially not something like this. I’m not an actor, and this is more acting than anything.” He pauses for a beat before adding, voice laced with desperation, “I am no sort of honeypot. Back me up here, Stark.”

“Oh, hell no, Solo, I’m with short stack on this.” Clint makes a noise like he is going to try to interrupt Tony, but the man just continues on, “are you really trying to convince me that you haven’t charmed your way through all sorts of gala dinner fundraiser bullshit events we’ve had to go through? I get that I am not the most observant of folks, especially not compared to you or Kuryakin-” At that apparent reference to her, Natasha finally pulled away from the the scene they are snooping on to shoot a confused glance at him and, finding no answer there, to Steve. Whatever joke Tony was trying to make with the nicknames Solo and Kuryakin were lost on the three of them. “- but I do actually see things, I promise. And, really, are you trying to tell me that the scorching hot tango that you and Itsy Bitsy pulled out at the last Maria Stark Foundation benefit, that was so seductively hypnotic and attention grabbing that I was able to full-on make out with Steve in a crowded room and absolutely no one noticed, was just some old carnie trick, and not diversionary spy training put to practical use? Every single person in that room wanted to take you home after that. Even me, and I showed up to that thing on the arm of Captain America.” Tony paused again, “Although, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to going home with both of you.”

Clint whined at that, realizing that he was completely out of excuses, and that Tony may actually want to fuck him. Or be fucked by him. Or something. What? Really not important right now, Barton. 

That weird train of thought was derailed by something that sounded a lot like a grown-ass man growling. He glanced up to see Bucky walking into Tony’s lab, looking a bizarre combination of pissed off and turned on.

“Mine, Stark, back off.” There was no heat to Bucky’s words, but they left no room for argument.

“Yours, yeah, sure. Nowhere in that did I say you weren’t welcome to join,” Tony replied, not arguing at all. 

Neither Nat or Steve laughed, and, frankly, they both felt they should get a medal for such a feat of will. Darcy was proud of herself to keeping it to just a snort of laughter, but she still moved to stand behind Steve in order to use him as a sort of human shield. 

Bucky ignored them all, his focus solely on Clint. He reached out to run his hands over the uniform, but pulled back at the last second, oddly unsure. “Uh, so, what’s going on?”

“Fuck, Buck.” Clint let out a sigh and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Bucky’s collarbone. “The mission, the milk run, I’ll be gone two days. It’s a honey pot. I’m supposed to get information out of some twinky weapons trafficker. I am supposed to be the steward on his private charter plane. It’s about 50% making sure his drink is full and 50% picking up things he drops on the floor and trying to pretend I am not some sort of trans-atlantic stripper. I’ve been down here talking to Tony the last few days. Recon. He is, y’know, sort of the expert on the subject.”

“You, um, you,” Bucky had no idea how to finish that thoughts. At least not without sounding like an ass and potentially blowing up his relationship. “You are going to seduce him to get him to talk? And someone actually thinks this will work?”

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky.” He stood up straight and took a couple of steps back. “Yes, someone actually thinks this will work. Believe it or not, I am actually a spy and I do know how to do this, even if I think it is a shit idea and it isn’t my specialty. And I totally haven’t been freaking out about this for the better part of a week and totally needed you and that stunning display of confidence in my abilities.”

“C’mon, Clint. Y’know that ain’t what I meant.” He took a step in towards his boyfriend while reaching out to grab the lapels of the jacket. “There is absolutely no fuckin’ way anyone’s gonna believe you are an inflight stripper.” He yanked lightly on the jacked, pulling Clint up against his chest.”There ain’t no way anyone looks like  _ this _ that ain’t a known model or a fuckin’ trap. With that, he leans in and kisses Clint. He has no idea where the peanut gallery went or if they are still watching or what, and he doesn’t particularly care. 

“Just one question for ya, then,” he starts when they break apart.

“Ok, what’s that?”

“D’you get to keep the uniform? I think I may have stumbled onto something, and want to explore it s’more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I genuinely appreciate it.
> 
> You are wonderful and awesome and I am glad you exist. I hope you are having a good day.


End file.
